


Brokering Intergalactic Peace is a Process

by Stillsixpm



Series: Adventures in Diplomacy [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis April Fool's Crack Challenge, Eraser, F/M, glow sticks, mistaken flirtation, must include magnets, strange ipod locations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stillsixpm/pseuds/Stillsixpm
Summary: They've been around the galaxy a time or two and still haven't killed each other?They've still got time. Their job isn't done yet, after all.





	1. Bucky Barnes, Damsel in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No relationship is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge prompt: must include magnets.

She was getting better at this, damnit.

The quinjet’s trajectory became increasingly more erratic. Darcy maneuvered the craft about as she seethed, unknowingly testing the limits of modern aviation. The controls had felt a bit off ever since breaching atmo, but she had kept that tidbit to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was invite another lecture from Dr. Barnes, expert in apparently  _ everything _ .

Her actions were completely justified. 

They had only landed on this dinky moon because she wanted to stretch a little outside of the confines of their ship. It certainly wasn’t protocol to make an unplanned landing and it was generally frowned upon to leave your partner on an uninhabited moon. But if Darcy didn’t get away from that man soon, she’d be returning home for the next check-in minus one Winter Soldier. It was reported to be unsettled, and from what she could tell, had been used as a junkyard of sorts. She flew through a cornucopia of mechanical garbage. No signs of a settlement so far, from what she could see. No vegetation either, or running water, it looked like.

_ Quiet, guilt!  _

So Darcy had pretty much marooned him here. She had left him with his holographic suit and ridiculous bag of weapons, hadn’t she? He was still alive. She pulled up his bio-feed on the monitor to double check. Stats looked normal. Yes, he was still alive. 

Grinding her teeth in unconscious imitation of him, she recalled their fight.

\------------

She had idly mentioned a desire for some target practice. They had been onboard the quinjet for longer than usual and she desperately wanted to stretch her legs and breathe some non-recycled air. Bucky was getting stir crazy too, it had seemed, as he almost perked at the idea.

“I could give you some pointers,” he had said with that stupid mouth of his.

After she agreed, they located the closest pitstop on the way to their next mission and Bucky packed an unnecessary amount of supplies in preparation for their landing.

And what she had imagined as a fun way to relieve some boredom became an exercise in restraint.

\------------

_ Bang _ .

“You keep tensing right before you pull.” 

“Well  _ something _ is stressing me out.” She raised her weapon again and narrowed her eyes in concentration.

_ Bang. _

“Keep your feet firmly planted. I just corrected your stance.”

“I didn’t even  _ move  _ my feet.”

_ Bang _ .

“Are you even  _ aiming  _ for the target I marked?”

_ Rude _ . “That was a practice shot.”

_ Bang. Bang. _

“We’re going to need more ammo.”

“Didn’t you pack three butt loads in your stupid bag?”

_ Bang. _

“I didn’t think you’d need this much.”

“Excuse me, guns aren’t my weapon of choice.”

_ Bang. Bang. Bang. _

“You can’t rely on that taser all the time.”

“I didn’t mean my taser.”

_ Bang. _

“What are you going to do to the enemy without your taser or better aim?  _ Talk  _ them to death?”

She let out the world's most sarcastic laugh and imagined his face was on the target.

_ Bang bang bang bang. _

“God knows most of them would prefer a few bullets to the head.” That was  _ it. _

She tossed the gun aside and whipped out a knife seemingly from nowhere--a trick she’d picked up from  _ him _ . “You know what I really need to work on is  _ stabbing.  _ Let’s work on my  _ stabbing _ practice!”

“Darcy!” He snatched the knife away before she could do any real damage.

“No, that’s mine. Gimme!”

After a brief tussle, in which she may or may not have jumped onto his back, and in which he most certainly held the knife just out of her reach, making her jump for it like a three-year-old, she shoved him as hard as she could--moving him exactly 0 inches--and ran back to the jet, leaving him in her dust.

\------------

Maybe she’d leave him here for a few days.

But if she was being honest with herself—something Darcy hated to do—she would admit that it wasn’t just the mansplaining or the criticism that had set her off. The two of them had been stuck onboard together for far too long with far too little to do. She just wasn’t designed for so much quiet alone time with the new male lead in her life. It had almost been more comfortable when she suspected he hated her. Now she felt obligated to have honest, open conversations instead of their former routine of snark and silence. She wasn’t emotionally equipped for that nonsense. 

A physical outlet was just what she needed to recalibrate her system. That meant either a mission or sex. But it wasn’t like she could make the quinjet fly any faster to their next zany adventure, and their relationship hadn’t progressed physically beyond a handful of kisses here and there. 

Bucky didn’t seem to be in any kind of a rush to push things beyond that. She was unsure if she should feel relief or disappointment at that. She didn’t want to be  _ that girl _ , but sometimes she didn’t know what the hell was going on with the two of them. They had built a friendship of sorts, and if honesty was to be the mood for now, Darcy would describe it as a nice one. The days when she felt like dead weight on these missions, when she felt like she was only here because of her affiliation with Jane seemed long past. It seemed so long ago that Darcy felt like she didn’t deserve to be acting as a liaison for Earth—and that Bucky felt that too.

That was what had bothered her. Darcy had thought she had his respect now, that she wasn’t some galactic joke anymore and that she sort of earned her spot on this quinjet considering their many successful missions as of late. And some of that insecurity had flared up during target practice.

The dashboard broke her reverie by lighting up, signaling a change in Bucky’s bio-feed. What trouble could he get into on this scrapheap? Tapping on the monitor, she frowned at his reading. There had been a spike in his heart rate, which wouldn’t be much cause for alarm in most people, but Bucky wasn’t most people. She’d seen him remain stoic in the face of gunfire and actual fire and giant razor sharp teeth frog people. The man wouldn’t be alarmed by anything short of an emergency. 

So although his vitals looked just fine, she decided it was time to go retrieve him.

“Time to go save the day.”

\------------

Of everything that could have happened, she could not have imagined this.

As she approached Bucky’s signal, she could faintly make out a tall mechanical construct. It appeared to be some kind of crane or lift or pulley system—oh, it was an electromagnet! Although it had been fashioned together rather crudely with a menagerie of cannibalized parts, Darcy was fairly certain it was an electromagnet—one of those big industrial lift magnets. And with that realization came a swift pang of nostalgia. Jane would have been impressed with this monstrosity.

But she didn’t have time to reminisce, because hanging from the metal plate some 200 feet above the ground was one Bucky Barnes, Damsel in Distress. Luckily for His Ladyship’s arm socket, it looked like the plate had attached to the arsenal on his back rather than merely onto his vibranium arm. All four of his limbs dangled in the air, in the most delightfully undignified manner.

She was going to enjoy the shit out of this. His comm appeared to be in working order. She spoke into the feed.

“Well, well, well. I turn my back for a second and look at what happens.” 

“It’s been over an hour.”  _ How dare he sound so bored. _

“Has it?” She copied his tone. “You could’ve just cried for help.”

“I was working my way out.”  _ Clearly _ .

“Then maybe I should just come back when you’re done.”

Before he could fire back a response, his captors emerged from hiding and called out to her over an amplified speaker. There was some feedback, but it didn’t seem to bother her universal translator.

“So you have come to collect your companion.” She couldn’t get a handle on the species. They looked avian, but were wingless. The speaker had a stupid red hat on.

“Me? I’m just flying through the area.”

“You may have him.” The leader cocked his head ever so slightly. That damn hat didn’t budge. “For a price.”

“Did I say I wanted him? Got anything better down there?”

“Lewis,” Bucky said her name like a curse.

“I’m haggling here, Sergeant.” She wasn’t done punishing him yet.

“Just get me loose and let’s get off this rock.”

The alien tried to keep them on topic. “We require your ship as payment for your companion’s life.”

“Doesn’t sound like an even trade to me.”

“Lewis!” Bucky was started to sound agitated. She quickly checked his vitals. Nope, still healthy enough.

The natives were getting restless. “You test my patience. I do not think you would like the alternative.”

“Yeah? Hit me.”

“Darcy, come on!”

“And what do you suggest I do?” Darcy ignored the bewildered aliens to mock her captive partner. “You couldn’t possibly want  _ me _ to shoot down  _ that _ gigantic electromagnet, do you?”

“Certainly not,” warned their leader. “Shoot it at his peril.” 

“At his  _ peril _ , he said. You’re in great  _ peril _ , Bucky.” She knew she was being an asshole. She kept going. “And however shall I rescue you from this predicament, huh? All by  _ myself _ , without you to show me which button is the trigger?”

“Are you done? Are you done talking now?” How he managed to sound so superior while hanging from a giant magnet hundreds of feet in the air was beyond her.

“Uh…” the alien was at a complete loss. 

Darcy almost never had that problem. “No, I’m not done! I could keep doing this until you pass out from oxygen loss to your brain!”

“Excuse me.” The alien took a hesitant step forward to cut in, to no effect.

“And then I’ll wake you up and keep talking some more!”

“Just shoot the damn thing already!”

“But how will I  _ aim _ , Bucky? What if I shoot  _ you _ instead of this  _ huge _ magnet?”

“You know...” The poor guy looked like he wanted to wring his hands together. He remained ignored.

“Easy! Just aim directly at me. Then I'll be just fine!”

“I’ll do just that, Winter Smart Ass!” She aimed straight for that stupid head of his but his wisecracking face was saved just in time by his baffled captors. 

At a nod from the speaker, one of the underlings loosened the crane’s hold on the metal plate. It wasn’t enough to let Bucky plummet to his death, but it was enough to send a message: haggling time was over.

“I assume you are ready to discuss terms now?” The alien sounded a little too smug. 

“You have my attention,” her tone was steady. Her heart was racing.  _ He was fine _ , she told herself.

“As you and your companion suggested, it will be difficult for you to hit all your targets with much accuracy.” He waved an arm pompously, gesturing at himself and his crew. “Surely it would be better to acquiesce to our demands than to test your limited skill--” his speech was cut off as a single round from the quinjet knocked off his tall red hat, revealing a smoking crest of charred feathers underneath. 

“Indeed.” He did wring his hands this time. And was he paler? He looked paler. “Perhaps we will just wait for the next ship to come along. Good day to you both.” He nodded once more at his fellow aliens, who made short work of safely lowering the metal plate, shutting off the magnet’s power and fleeing for their lives.

Now Darcy hadn’t shown up expecting to engage in any gunfire, but the guy just assumed she couldn’t aim for shit, and that was just presumptuous. To be fair, she had actually been aiming for the ground before his feet, but the controls to the quinjet had felt a bit off ever since they got on this moon. And let’s face it, her aim was shit.

She would never admit as much to Bucky, though.

\------------

They were back on board, all limbs intact and no one squished to an unsightly pulp. They were, however, sans one overstuffed bag of supplies.

Darcy spied his bagless shoulders. “Shouldn’t we go get all the stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“Didn’t you pack like a mini-arsenal? That bag you had was stuffed full.”

“There weren’t any more weapons in there. All we needed was that piece for you and some ammo.”

“What else was in that bag, then?”

He didn’t answer for a moment.

“Just some supplies.” He coughed. “Food. Drink. Thought you needed a breather from all that flight time, so maybe after target practice and some lunch we could take a walk. Stretch our legs.”

She stared at him. “You packed a picnic lunch?” 

_ Damn you, guilt. _

He didn’t look at her. “It was a shitty place to land. And that was before that business with the crane and the bird people down there.”

“It was an electromagnet,” she absentmindedly corrected, still processing.  _ That was a date _ . This was how they dated. Her life was so weird. She stared at him.

“I promise the next time'll be better.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Actually I can't promise that,” he said, huffing a little. Finally addressing her goggling expression, he squinted at her. “What?”

“But the shooting. And the arguing. And the general dickishness!” Her finger desperately wanted to jab daggers at his face but she suppressed that urge with all her power.  _ You stay down, you little shit. _

Understanding dawned on his face. “Thought you wanted to shoot better, doll. I don't know any nice ways to teach.”

That didn't justify anything. Shifting her jaw from side to side, Darcy prepared her vocal cords for an epic level of ranting, but his next words squashed that shrew right in her throat before it could leap out at him.

“I'd sooner you not have to fire a weapon at all.” He heaved out a great big sigh. “But I know you won't ever stop helping people who need it. And the Galaxy ain't short on bums who'll try and stop you.”

“But I got you,” she supplied weakly. He was acting like he thought  _ she  _ was the hero.

“Yeah, you got me, for as long as you need. So before you're done with me, I'll train you with what I know.”

Before she was done with him? Darcy hadn't even  _ had  _ him yet. Thankfully, he didn't give her time to unpack  _ that  _ thought.

“You haven't needed me for a while, not really.” He looked an odd mix of happy and sad at this confession. “Diplomacy requires a lot more than guns and muscle. Shouldn’t have to need them at all. Hopefully one day you won't need the muscle anymore to do what you do. But 'til that day comes, let's have more target practice. And stabbing practice, if you want. Because helping people's what you're good at, but that's what I'm good at.”

This man. This broody, stubborn, sarcastic weapon of mass destruction saw value in her, Darcy Lewis. In his eyes, she wasn't just an affiliate, a sassy accessory to the superhero-adjacent. That this genuine hero, who had, in his history, both taken and saved countless lives saw her as someone who was capable and good gave her indescribably warm feelings in her stomach.

“Plus, your aim is  _ bad _ .”

Her warm feelings evaporated. 

“Just  _ so _ bad. I mean, really awful.”

Her thoughts took a stabby turn again. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

At this he laughed. “Sometimes. You’re pretty when you got murder in your eyes.”

“I must be gorgeous right now then.”

“You sure are,” he agreed solemnly with a look that too closely resembled a smolder for her comfort.  _ Gah. _

She grumbled. “You know, pissing someone off is a pretty antiquated form of flirtation.”

“Well you know me. Out of fashion.”

“I preferred it when we just made out.”

“Oh?” He pretended to think this over. “Well, seeing as how you rescued me and all, you are due a thank you kiss.”

“Is that so?” She said wryly. Darcy saw where this was going.

“As long as that’s not too outdated for you. I could always show my gratitude some other way. Do your laundry, write you a thank you card—”

Somewhere along the line, Darcy had discovered that this man she once suspected of being mute in fact had quite the mouth. So she grabbed him by the collar and shut him up in the most expedient and enjoyable way she knew how.

Bucky didn’t object a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you for April Fool's 2020!
> 
> Just kidding. 
> 
> I'm not sure I can crank these out for the challenge week (that was the plan), but hopefully they'll be out sometime before next year.


	2. The Spirits Sound Like a Bunch of Assholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all fun and games until someone loses an arm.  
> Well, actually it's not fun and games. Child abduction shouldn't be made light of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge prompt: Eraser.

“It’s the orb.”

“Wrong! It’s the stick,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.   

Bucky let out a big fake sigh.  _ He actually loved arguing with her _ . “It’s obviously the orb,” he said as pointedly as he could without pointing. The two of them were trying--failing--not to draw the attention of the village’s spiritual priestess. They had to banter covertly while she chanted and danced around the firepit in her sacred circle.

“I call you forth, spirits, to hear our cries!” The woman shouted into the air and waved more incense as she danced around an alien couple in tears. These parents were the reason why they were here. And all the missing children.  _ Focus _ _. _

“You are so wrong, Bucky.”  _ She had never been known for her focus. _

“I’m not.” His tone was flat. 

She ignored him. “Why am I wrong, you ask?” 

“I didn’t.” 

Darcy resisted the urge to bop him on the nose. She settled for unbuckling multiple straps on his tactical vest in retaliation.  _ Who needs this many straps on their shirt?  _ She got three loose before he batted her hands away. The priestess let out another litany of chanting. “I invoke you, spirits, come! Hear the pleas of those in sorrow.” While Darcy rolled her eyes, Bucky re-tied two of the three straps. He left the third hanging at his open collar, revealing an expanse of bare throat and the slightest hint of pectoral. 

“Maybe you’re not loud enough,” Darcy offered helpfully, most of her attention still on that loose strap, and more importantly, what lay underneath.

“Spirits, be not offended by the unbelieving or by the _impure_ _of heart_.”  The incense waving was getting more aggressive.

“Gosh, that felt kind of personal.” Forcing her gaze back on the priestess, Darcy resumed her argument. “Her power’s in the stick. She hasn’t let it go once since we got here. I’m calling it.” 

“Orb.” Bucky was resolute. And eloquent as ever.

“You want to expand upon that, buddy? Offer some insight to your theory, in maybe more than five words?”

He leveled her with a stare that used to give her the shivers. She lied. He still gave her the shivers. He counted off his fingers, “Red. Orb. Glowing. Center. Circle.” He had to uncross his arms to supply one more finger. “Doll.” He finished with a smirk.

“I don’t buy it.” Darcy waggled her fingers at the priestess and tried to look unassuming. The fire popped in time with her chanting. “Agatha Cackle here leaves the orb unprotected while she does her business. Her mojo’s got to be in the stick, which she’s probably been using to zap away all the missing kids.” Darcy looked at the weeping couple with sympathy. Their child was one of dozens who had gone missing--who had disappeared--without a single footprint or trail mark to indicate their location. And Bucky had been the one to scout the area. He couldn’t find a single physical clue as to their whereabouts. “Break the stick, and whatever illusion she cast will be broken. Hurray. And don’t say orb!” She hissed that last warning a little too loudly, bringing a quick grin to his face.

“The spirits will have your silence!”

“This spirits are awfully bossy.”

“Give it a rest.” Bucky sounded exasperated, but his expression was amused. 

Darcy shrugged and resumed her observation from her spot in the mystical shop.  _ This phony is going to find a reason to kick us out in about thirty seconds.  _

The priestess’s yelling was coming to a climax, and true to Darcy’s prediction, she pronounced, “The child you seek cannot be helped. The spirits have her now.” The parents wailed at this and held one another in their grief. Darcy scratched an ear and silently willed the woman to get on with it already. Leveling her gaze upon the two humans, the priestess bellowed, “Begone with you then! Leave the faithful to mourn their loss in peace.”

“I call bullshit.” Darcy was fed up. There was a rock in her boot and she was getting kind of hungry and she was a little interested in having another go at her partner’s vest buckles. 

“Have you no sense of decency?” The priestess put on a good act. “A child has  _ died _ .” 

“For your sake, she better not have.” Play time was officially over. Darcy never considered herself the type to have a soft spot for kids, but there were just some lines you didn’t cross. “Let’s have a look at that stick.” Darcy stepped forward, arm outstretched. 

Bucky had already circled the priestess, taking up a rear guard if she made a run for it. Not taking her eyes off the now quiet woman, Darcy called out to the parents to make their way to the main exit at her back. Confused at this turn in events, they stumbled up from their huddle and cast nervous glances between Darcy, the woman, and Bucky. 

Everything seemed to go wrong all at once. Just as Darcy took a step toward the parents to quickly usher them out, Bucky made a play for the orb at the priestess’s feet. 

The woman surprised her--her stick did in fact turn out to have powers. With every swipe and slash of her arm, whatever item the stick’s power fell upon just vanished, without fanfare, without a trace. 

_ Slash _ .

Chair--gone.

_ Slash. _

Goodbye, bookshelf.

Bucky was agile enough to dodge her attacks, but a lone buckle--that top one at the neck of his tac vest--wasn’t so able. The priestess got a lucky shot in and before Darcy knew it, her partner was shirtless. 

He was also weaponless from the waist up, but Darcy didn’t take note of that at the time. She was understandably distracted by all that tan skin. 

How was he so tan? 

_ Priorities, brain! _

_ Now the pants,  _ that bitch responded.

The priestess took advantage of her stupor and fired a volley at her, only to be thwarted by Bucky’s arm. It was next to vanish. He gaped at the empty space that his arm had just occupied. The woman left him little time to wonder at its loss, as her next blow hit him dead center.

Darcy watched in horror as Bucky vanished right before her eyes. The priestess crowed her victory, but Darcy didn’t give in to her baiting.  _ I know what to do _ . 

“Run!” She barked at the terrified alien pair, ordering them into action. “Go get help, now!” 

The couple scrambled for the door, luring the priestess’s attention away from Darcy, who made a mad dash for the orb. “Let’s hope you were right, Bucky.” She raised it high above her head and, ignoring the priestess’s sudden screams and pleading, threw it at the ground, where it smashed to dust. 

Nothing happened.  _ Not the time to gloat! _

The priestess shrieked and ran to escape. The couple decided to grow at least a single backbone between the two of them and tackled the panicking woman to the ground. “Let me go let me go!” She pleaded again and again, trying to claw her way outside. Darcy made sure she didn’t get far.  _ Odd that she’s not even fighting back anymore.  _

After prying the stick from the woman’s fingers, Darcy tapped it a couple times and cleared her throat. “Now, everyone repeat after me: it was the stick, not the orb!” The couple stared at her while the priestess babbled frantically.  _ Ah, well. _

She snapped it in two.

Nothing happened. 

She crouched to address the woman.  _ Yikes, was she crying?  _ “It’s been a long day,” Darcy started. 

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed. We’re all doomed. Let me go!” The woman was nearly insensate, leaving Darcy baffled as to why.  _ I’m pissed, but I haven’t even started to make with the threats. _

Behind them, where the sacred circle had been, came an ominous roar, shaking the foundations upon which they stood. The ground beneath the orb’s remains had turned black and began to cave into the earth, creating a sinkhole. Or an opening. 

Darcy and the aliens grabbed the woman and ran out of there before they could see what came out.

\-----------

Staring was rude. She knew it, but Darcy couldn’t tear her eyes off her partner, returned to the land of the living no worse for wear. 

After threatening to return the priestess to her sacred circle, hogtied and seasoned nicely like a delicious appetizer for the released hell creature, she became much more amenable to the request that she return both Darcy’s partner and all the missing children.

The villagers thanked Darcy and Bucky profusely for all their returned children, which was made slightly less heartwarming by their vow of vengeance should the two of them not recapture and contain the beast in a timely manner. Darcy was kind of over this planet.

Bucky took her hovering in stride. “I told you I’m fine.” 

“You took that shot for me,” she said a little sullenly.

“What was that?” He put a finger to his ear. “I think I heard you say,”--he switched to an embarrassingly high falsetto--,”Gee, Bucky, thanks for saving me!”

_ How did I ever find this dork intimidating _ . “That sounds nothing like me.”

“You were right all along.” He added a charming eye roll to the imitation.

“Not right.” She emphatically shook her head.

“My heart almost stopped when I saw you vanish!”

She fell silent at that, which was enough to make him stop his sad comedy routine.

“Hey, I’m ok. I’m here,” he affirmed in his regular baritone. 

She hummed noncommittally and tried to wave it off.

Bucky looked thoughtful for a bit, and after a moment, conceded, “It was the stick.”

She grinned faintly in triumph. “It was, wasn’t it?” 

He nodded affably. “Breaking the stick definitely released the hell beast.”

The villagers could probably hear her shriek all the way back on the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If only Bucky had been wearing a onesie.


	3. Darcy Wins a Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are bad days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge prompt: Glow sticks.
> 
> This one got a little dark.  
> That wasn't a pun.

“Wait, it’s not pronounced, ‘me me’?” Bucky motioned to let her pass through decompression first. _What a gentleman._

“No, it’s just ‘meme’. One syllable.” She shut the hatch behind them to seal the exit of the quinjet. Moments ago, they had docked a commercial freighter that had been sending out a continuous distress signal.

“Is that an acronym? Or am I supposed to know what that is?” He was really stuck on this concept. Darcy was kind of hoping for an alien attack to save her from an hour long explanation of yet another internet phenomenon.

“I think it’s from a Greek word,” she recalled, fiddling with the holographic suit controls at her sternum. “They’re just fun, ok? And it’s the chosen way of my culture to communicate our thoughts and feelings in humorous and lighthearted fashion. So when I call you Grumpy Cat, that image is what I’m referring to.”

“That doesn’t look like me.”

To the common mortal, his expression would be as inscrutable as ever. But Darcy now knew this man and could see the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth for what it was.

“Oh my god. You’re messing with me!” She was indignant and irritated and surprisingly tickled at what a troll he was turning out to be. “Does this mean I explained emojis to you for nothing?” 

“Not for nothing. That was a very entertaining two hours for me.”

“Can you guess what emoji I’m thinking of right now?” She growled. 

“That eggplant one, right?” He said knowingly. 

She waited to scoff at him before closing the interior hatch behind them. “You wish.” The rush of wind from the seal mechanism drowned out whatever glib response he could have made but his weaponized eyebrow arch said enough.    

Ever the professional, he took point as they boarded the freighter. The cargo bay was dark and cold; the ship was utilizing emergency power only. Darcy idly ran a finger over her holographic suit controls yet again. It would regulate her temperature, as well as maintain a steady oxygen flow. The crew members were likely congregated in the control room to conserve heat and oxygen. Now to locate control and determine the ship’s malfunction. Neither Bucky nor Darcy were qualified to perform any serious repair, but they would do what they could. When their quinjet had come in range of the signal, Darcy couldn’t find the initial date of the transmission. All she could determine was that it was a request for parts, recorded and sent out on a continuous loop. It was altogether possible that this freighter had been stranded here for a while in the endless black of space. She sincerely hoped that they had arrived in time. 

The pair traveled from room to room, looking for any signs of life using her flashlight and the light from Bucky’s drawn weapon. She took a moment to study her partner. While he usually tended to operate in silence, there was a sense of alertness, some extra tension in his bearing that gave him away--Bucky was ill at ease. _But why_? What could he fear in this place? The temperature was too low and the oxygen too thin for most species to thrive, much less jump out and attack them.  

She poked him. “What’s up?” 

He surveyed the hallway before them, weapon at the ready. Eyes still on the lookout for potential threats, he said gravely, “I think we should go back to the jet.” 

“You can’t be serious.” She pointed her flashlight directly at his face. “Wow. You are serious.” 

“I mean it, Darce. We won’t find anything good here.” 

“What do you expect to find?” She’s more than a little incredulous at how shook up he was. “I don’t mean to be callous, but, worst case scenario, we’ll discover the deceased crew. No raiders can survive in this environment.” 

“I don’t mean it like that.” She can see his breath come out in little pants. “It’s just--” he sighed. “Laugh all you want, but I’ve seen this movie before. I know what comes next.” 

She tried not to laugh directly at his face. “Really?” She put her flashlight right under her chin, illuminating her face in a ghoulish way. “And what exactly comes next, Sergeant Barnes?” 

The doors in this hall had to be opened manually due to the power shutdown. How quaint. Darcy waved an arm before the first door in dramatic fashion. “Will we find the ghosts of the crew members in here?” She pulled it open, revealing a dark, empty lab. 

He didn’t lower his weapon or his guard for a second. “Laugh all you want, doll. This ship don’t smell right.” 

She skipped over to the next door. “Wait, we’re in space. Wrong genre. This is sci-fi.” She gave him her most reassuring smile. “I’ll tell you what, Buck. If we come across a mysterious chamber filled with hundreds of egg-like objects, I’ll try not to touch them.” She threw it open. Empty. 

“Bummer. I was kind of hoping for a dramatic reveal, there.” They reached the final door in this hallway. “You know what they say,” she reached for the handle. “Third time’s the charAAAAA!” 

Bucky pulled her behind him, weapon fixed on the figure who had appeared behind the door, bathing them in light. Standing behind that door was, according to his flight suit, one of the freighter’s crew members. And he was glowing. Darcy wasn’t what one would call xenophobic, but this guy creeped her the hell out. 

It wasn’t just his sudden appearance from behind the door. It wasn’t even the smell--which was god awful--or his alien features. Darcy couldn’t even pin her wariness on the fluorescence emitting from his body--dozens of little yellow dots traveling underneath his skin, giving him the almost comical appearance of a man-sized beacon, a light bulb, or a-- _a glow stick_ \--her subconscious whispered.  

It was also telling her to _run, run, get the hell away from this thing, from this place, right the fuck now_! But she ignored it. 

What was most unnerving about this alien was his stillness. She would think he was a mannequin-- _or a corpse_ \--if it wasn’t for the way his eyes flicked from her to Bucky back to her again. Still, she had to try. “We received your distress call.” She glanced at her partner, who hadn’t moved from his spot. “We came to help.” And when that garnered no response, she ventured a tentative, “Can you hear me?”  

And just when Darcy thought he couldn’t get any creepier, he spoke.   

“WE HEAR YOU.” It was less a voice and more a terrible wheezing of air through spent vocal cords. “WE HUNGER. IT IS COLD. SO TIRED, THESE BODIES ARE.” 

“We?” Darcy asked. “Do you have many crew members?” 

The sound of his voice made her skin scrawl. “WE ARE MANY. WE GATHERED. THERE.” He heaved his arm up to gesture toward what she assumed was the control room or main cabin. His arm lifted almost as a marionette’s--jerky and disjointed, as from a compulsion not his own. The alien seemed altogether unconcerned by the firearm trained on his head. 

Darcy made no suggestion that Bucky lower his weapon, but insisted they investigate nonetheless. Her partner voiced his displeasure, but followed. They allowed the alien to lead the way. 

They made slow progress through the passageways of the ship and Darcy’s sense of foreboding grew. Still, she followed the alien as he plodded along, his gait shuffled and uncoordinated. 

Finally reaching the main cabin, Darcy had to shield her eyes a little. The entire room was illuminated by glowing aliens. She quickly tallied fourteen listless, lurching, luminescent aliens. And if she had thought the smell was bad from just one of them--her eyes watered at the stench that permeated the room. They drew closer to flank her and Bucky, who cursed and struggled to shove them back to create space. 

_This was a mistake_. 

Dread filled her as the crew members began to speak. They turn tooks speaking without pause, a single line of thought travelling effortlessly between them. 

“WE SEEK PASSAGE.” 

“I gathered as much.” She would begin with diplomacy. 

“OUR VESSELS ARE DAMAGED.” Another spoke. 

“We assumed as much when we discovered your signal.” She kept her voice steady. Bucky was ready for an escalation at any moment. 

“WE REQUIRE PARTS. WE WILL TAKE YOURS.” 

“We’d be happy to help in any way we are able.” She extended her empty palms. “As you can see, we didn’t bring any with us. But if we can return to our ship, we can find something that may help you.” 

“THE PARTS YOU HAVE WILL BE ADEQUATE.” 

Her brow creased. “I told you--” 

“OUR VESSELS ARE DAMAGED.” Somebody repeated, interrupting her. 

“I got that,” she frowned. She was ready to leave now. “I don’t think we can help you.” 

“OUR VESSELS ARE DAMAGED.” Another said yet again, this time making jerky motions to gesture behind them. 

The circle opened to reveal a small group of maybe five or six figures--a different species from the speakers’, but sporting a similar fluorescence all over their bodies. The light was dimmer, the dots fewer, and these aliens were sick or injured or dying. They hunched and huddled and could scarcely lift their chests to take in air to breathe. They were alive-- _barely_ \--they were imprisoned-- _infected_ \--and terribly, terribly aware.  

“WE ATTEMPTED TO BOARD THESE NEW VESSELS, BUT THEY ARE DAMAGED.” The alien she first met onboard this ship lifted an unsteady finger in her direction. “WE WILL TAKE YOURS NOW.” 

She felt sickness at the back of her throat as the hive closed in on them. Bucky snapped her out of it. 

“We’re leaving, right now!” Shots fired out, but they still came. Bucky’s aim was impeccable and his targets weren’t even dodging. Yet they lurched forward, heedless of the bullets scoring their bodies. 

_They’re not alive_ , Darcy realized weakly. _You can’t kill dead things._ Panic began to set in as she felt one arm, two, three, grab at her. She snatched her hands away, out of their grasp and Bucky started using the butt of his rifle to smash them away from them. 

There were too many and they were tireless and immune to whatever pain Bucky could dish out. Her stomach clenched as she looked at her partner try to fight them back, determined to the end. _Not Bucky_.  

A figure fell heavily upon three of the aliens who had been grabbing at her. Another followed, then two, and three plowed into the horde swarming her partner. Her rescuers’ attack was sloppy, and would serve as no more than a distraction. Bucky wasted no time, grabbing her wrist and yelling for them to _go, go, go_!  

Before they escaped the cabin, Darcy looked behind at her rescuers--the dying crewmen who had already been infected, or _boarded_. She pulled back at Bucky’s grip, loathe to abandon them. 

“They’re already dead, Darcy.” Bucky would carry her out of her if necessary. “Leave them.” 

The sight of the doomed crewmen valiantly fending off the aliens was burned forever in her brain. Bucky picked her up and ran. 

\-------- 

Darcy sat numbly in the cockpit of the quinjet, hearing her partner speak, but not listening.   

“We can't cut off the distress signal's transmission, but I placed an alert with the nearest agency that could help. That would be Nova Corp. Sent them the freighter's make and coordinates. They got the firepower to take it out of the sky, if that's what they decide to do.” 

She nodded mutely in acknowledgement. It was some time before she spoke.”Jane owes me ten bucks,” she said faintly. 

“Darcy?” His tone was hesitant, more so than she’d ever heard it. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his jaw, trying to select his next words. 

She cut him off before any comforting words could get out. “Can we not do this?” 

He studied her solemnly but didn’t speak further.

Darcy turned away from him so she didn’t have to see his concern. “Let’s not do the post-mission wrap up talk. I just--” she let out a weary gust of air from her lungs. “I want to go to my bunk and _not_ talk.” Pushing herself upright, she found the strength to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.


	4. Buck and Darcy's Infinite Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge prompt: Strange iPod locations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The location is Bucky's pants.

_I may have gone too far._

Darcy was a little shocked at the mess she had made of her living quarters. She had just about turned it inside out searching for her lost iPod. Surveying the detritus of her room, she spied wiring and tools, the entirety of her clothing and personal effects strewn about the floor, upended furniture that she had unbolted from the floor of the jet, and...were those layers of sheet metal? She vaguely recalled searching for her iPod behind the panels of her walls. It had made perfect sense at the time that she might have misplaced it there. But now she was without a bed, fixtures, and a whole wall. Regret began to sink in when she considered how long it would take to clean up the mess. Reassembling the toilet in particular was going to be a pain in the ass.

She raked her hands through greasy hair in frustration. They weren’t due to make another landing in several days and there was only so much Darcy could do while in the solitude of her quarters.

She wasn’t hiding, exactly, but she wasn’t making an active effort to be in her partner’s company either.

The quinjet in no way resembled the freighter she and Bucky had boarded that fateful day. Still, the last time she walked down the hallway toward the cockpit, she ran into her partner along the way and had nearly passed out from fright. He had done nothing wrong, and seeing the hurt and guilt in his face made her feel awful. But his sudden, quiet appearance had triggered some terrible memories in her, ones that she wasn’t ready to talk about.

And really, it wasn’t his fault that he was so stealthy and that she was so messed up in the head. After Darcy had regulated her breathing, she had tried to laugh it off, chattering nonstop about too much caffeine and how she missed lattes and did he know the cute cafe she and Jane used to frequent got turned into a FedEx.

Bucky sensed her need to repress current events and withdrew in a significant way himself, until he resembled the grim ex-assassin he had been when they first embarked on this mission. She unwittingly began them on a spiral of regression until they were each nearly back to behaving like the two social misfits they had been when they first left Earth--her, a chronic underachiever who wielded sarcasm and silliness as her best defenses against actual emotions and him, a silent, guilt-ridden robot too afraid of himself to be open to anybody. Whose bright idea had it been to pair the two of them together? Oh, that’s right--hers. Bucky still didn’t know her hand in ensuring he’d be her partner, and if she had any say in it, he never would.

So rather than be stuck with her own thoughts, which she didn’t trust not to take a morbid turn down memory lane, she had decided her next activity would be to blast away her remaining sanity with her favorite music. It was typical, therefore, that her iPod went missing.

Frustration turned into annoyance, which were both more appealing options than guilt or sadness or fear. Physically shaking her head to clear it, Darcy forced herself to find a new task. The upside of having made such a giant mess was the prospect that it would take several hours for her to now clean it up. Maybe she would reinforce the bolts securing her furniture and organize her wardrobe and clean the toilet--

Her thoughts were cut short by the dulcet tones of a slow ballad played over the jet’s speaker system. She frowned as she tried to recall the song’s title. There was no music programmed to the quinjet’s audio files and hers was the only music player onboard from what she knew. And she recognized that song, however vaguely. It was old, something from her _Oldies, not Goodies_ playlist. She kicked at various piles of her belongings on the floor. Had she accidentally stepped on her iPod, turned it on, then set it to this song, and connected it to the quinjet’s audio feed?--ok, she admitted that was a little far fetched.

When the feed switched to an upbeat pop song, she mock-gagged--it was one she would only listen to in the most dire of circumstances. Appropriately, it was from the playlist entitled _I Only Run When I’m Being Chased_. When Darcy made the connection and realized the whereabouts of her missing iPod, she wondered how long she could stay in her quarters before slowly going mad due to the unfortunate selection of music.

After opening the door, she cautiously peeked her head out of the room. _She was being ridiculous_. The next song, of the death metal genre, renewed her conviction. _This had to stop_. It was from the _Songs Tony Stark is Never Ever Allowed to Play_ _Ever_ list.

As she made her way down the hallway with newfound resolve, she heard the song switch to another of the _Oldies_. It was another ballad, soft and a little melancholy--something she could slowly dance to.

She walked past open doors and empty rooms and _she was fine_ , _no one was there_ , until she reached her destination and her partner, seated at the cockpit. Normally, she would slide right into the seat next to him, completely aware of his personal space and delighted to invade it. She remained standing at the entryway.

Her iPod was suspiciously absent.

“Are you holding my iPod hostage, Barnes?”

He studied her quietly, unresponsive for so long, and there was something so familiar in the stalemate between them that something in her chest sunk a little. Darcy almost expected him to dismiss her and turn away, just like he used to in the beginning. She took great care to keep her expression neutral, giving none of her disappointment away.

Just as she was about to laugh it off and walk away, protecting her hurt feelings, Bucky surprised her with a challenging quirk to his brow. “Finders keepers,” he said in a mocking tone.

A laugh escaped from her throat. She would play along. “Another iPod thief. The last guy who stole my iPod died, you know.” _And came back to life_ , she didn’t say aloud. Oddly, the thought of Phil’s death didn’t trigger her into a panic, but dug up fond memories.

Bucky looked unconcerned. He stretched out both arms in invitation. “Do your worst.”

Accepting the distraction of his little game, Darcy made a quick sweep of the room. It wasn’t in any of the obvious places--dock, dashboard, cup holder. No, no, no.

No, this man would want to make her squirm. He would revel in making her blush and the surest way of doing that was in having the damn thing on his person, likely in the most obscene place imaginable. She made her way towards his chair, giving his relaxed form a once over.

Darcy patted at the pockets of his vest, keeping her movements as impersonal and clinical as possible.

“Cold,” he informed her. And that one simple word unearthed a black memory, one of glowing skin and swarming hands but she shook it off just as quickly as it came upon her. He noticed her reaction--how could he not?--but didn’t pry. Instead, when she forced her hands lower, along the pouches of his utility belt, he murmured a gentle, “Warmer.”

“Really?” she asked dryly. “There must be easier ways to get me to grope you.”

“I’ve tried them all. I’m running out of plays, here,” he admitted without an ounce of self-recrimination. He leaned back and reclined as much as he could in that uncomfortable flight chair, crossing his hands nonchalantly behind his head.

The last place to search was his pants. Eyeing the front panel, she could make out a definite shape. It could be her iPod, and if it wasn’t, Darcy was pretty sure she wouldn’t be disappointed by what she found in its stead.

His chin tilted up in silent challenge as if to say, _search me_. Well, he picked the wrong woman to play chicken with. In went her hand to his left pants pocket, where, sure enough, her fingers closed around what she was looking for. All the while, Bucky never once broke her gaze.

She removed her hand from his pants, fingers secured around her missing iPod. “Was all of that really necessary?” She thumbed the center button, so worn after years of hard use and warm from Bucky’s body heat, and slipped the iPod into her back pocket.

“It got you here, didn’t it?” Bucky’s tone was casual, but there was something cautious in his eyes that gave her pause.

He lowered his hands from behind his head to rest on top of his thighs and understanding crept in. All throughout this game of his, he never made a move to grab her. He had been careful to keep his body language non-threatening, to move slowly and to allow her full control of the situation.

“I missed you.” His voice was a little hoarse.

“I was right here.” And geez, her voice was on the throaty side too.

He was right, though. It had been a while since she let her guard down around him since the incident. Too long that she had any casual contact with him at all, that she allowed herself to not just laugh _near_ him, but _with_ him. And Darcy had missed him too.

She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened yet and how it had affected her, but she was ready to stop avoiding it outright. Darcy knew that her partner would be willing to listen if she ever became ready.

So they sat together in the cockpit, without needing to hide behind their respective shields. And perhaps they weren’t as carefree as they had been before boarding that freighter, but they were on their way to being alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More specifically, the location is Bucky's pants pocket.
> 
> Whew. Four chapters in four days. The next one (mistaken flirtation) will hopefully be out on the 10th!


	5. We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business has mostly returned to normal for our heroes. Unfortunately for them, normal doesn't always equal boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original challenge prompt: mistaken flirtation, but this took a turn left.
> 
> I didn't come up with "Femizonia," or any other planet names. I picked them at random from Wikipedia list of Marvel planets.

The first time an alien made a pass at her partner, Darcy thought it was pretty funny. Bucky didn’t agree. Circumstances being what they were, she had thought most people would. In their line of work, it was healthy to develop a sense of humor about these things. 

The Chancellor’s overture had occurred long before their relationship progressed even into friendly territory, at a time when Darcy would never have labeled one of Bucky’s murder glares as “sultry”, much less “inviting.” 

At the end of the day, the A’skvarii Chancellor had taken Bucky’s stony refusal to lend his “mating arm” quite graciously. For once, it wasn’t the vibranium arm that was the one of interest. She had personally escorted them to the pier and waved affably in parting with all six of her tentacles. Knowing what she did about octopus mating habits, Darcy thought it was a wise decision for Bucky to have declined. Bucky got to leave the planet uneaten and Darcy got to keep her work associate in one piece.

Now, some time ago, she had come to terms with the indisputable truth that her partner was an attractive man. But she grew increasingly surprised at how that attractiveness translated across species, gender, and age. It was unrestricted by even size or shape or other physical measures of compatibility. Let it be said about one James Buchanan Barnes: the man exuded sexual charisma. Anything he did seemed to generate interest in the beings they met. 

Due to no fault of his own, the aliens Bucky encountered often mistook his silence as coyness and musculature as displaying. His nature tended toward the taciturn while on missions and he couldn’t help how he looked--if anything, the blame was partly due to the serum and partly due to the physically demanding nature of their work. In any case, everything he did--and didn’t do--seemed to scream, “I am an ideal specimen that would provide your offspring with numerous favorable traits.”

At the start of such episodes, Darcy had remained content--gleeful, even--to play spectator to the absurd lengths Bucky’s admirers would go to in order to secure his attention. And as these encounters began rather benignly, Darcy hadn't made much of it beyond an opportunity here and there to poke fun at him. That soon changed.

On a trip to Laxidazia, the dainty envoy had invited him--and her, by proxy--to partake in their treasured fermented beverage and awakening ceremony. Darcy had been more than a little sour at Bucky’s charmless refusal--the envoy barely cleared four feet and came from a peaceful people! Luckily, they escaped the cute Laxidazians’ mutagenesis into hulking, rabid trolls and even more luckily, the orgy that followed. Darcy learned that day not to invite such danger into their lives by uttering the words, “what could possibly happen?” again.

On R’makl’z, Darcy had been delighted to meet the indigenous people, a plant-like species who distantly resembled Earth flora. She had been slightly less delighted to witness how brazenly they displayed their flowers in full bloom whenever her partner passed by. The bolder ones went so far as to compliment his stamen and inquire about his pollination preferences. 

By the time they reached Femizonia, Darcy was seriously considering keeping Bucky locked away indefinitely for his safety.

No one on Earth would have dared describe Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier and current terrifying badass, as anything resembling prey, but some of the creatures they met took the term  _ predator  _ to a new and horrifying degree. Still, through any encounter, however objectifying, Bucky managed to maintain a cool exterior. Darcy had never mastered this skill. And the next person to ask if she offered her companion for stud services was going to get a face full of taser.

She thought that moment had finally arrived when the Chieftain of Femizonia projected her own culture’s views of the female-male dynamic directly onto Darcy and Bucky’s relationship. Femizonia was a matriarchal society that went through cycles of oppressing their male slaves and quelling their rebellions. It wasn’t often that Darcy hoped for war to break out on planets they visited, but this one time, she sure hoped she got to witness a truly epic uprising before they made their departure.

With a forced smile, she turned her attention back to the Chieftain--Darcy had to periodically tune her out just to stay sane--who still failed to grasp the concept of  _ keeping her damn hands to herself _ .

“So if he is not your pleasure slave or your packhorse, what then?” The planet’s leader pointed at Bucky with a crust of bread as big as Darcy’s head.

“He’s my partner,” Darcy ground out as civilly as she could. If the woman tried to inspect his teeth or tailbone, she was going to lose it. “My  _ work  _ partner,” she was quick to clarify. “We  _ work  _ together. As equals.”

“Equals?” The tribe members guffawed great big laughs along with their Chieftain. “What male can claim to be our equal, little sister?” 

It wasn’t her job to correct every bigot’s beliefs, Darcy reminded herself. Just as long as they held those beliefs  _ far _ from her. Still, some things couldn’t be left unsaid. “You haven’t met a male like this one, believe me.”

The woman crossed her beefy arms. “He is puny.”

_ He’s really not _ . “Agile.”

“I do not like his stare. Proper behavior dictates he avert his gaze from mine.”

_ He’s not afraid of you _ . “In your society, perhaps. In ours, it means he has your attention.” 

Her hostess snorted at the notion. “Can he even  _ perform _ ?” She said in a skeptical manner.

“You mean, like party tricks?”  _ I know what you mean, lady.  _ “I repeat, he’s not a dog.”  _ Or anything else for your amusement. _

The Femizonian’s gaze was appraising as she gestured at him. “How can you determine his virility if he is covered so?” Darcy wondered yet again if her translator was broken. Nothing she said made any impact. “It is customary to provide a visual display if you are as proud of his traits as you say.”

She was getting Bucky out of here. He didn’t deserve to listen to this. “Chieftain, there is more to a person than his or her ability to produce your vile babies,” she hissed. Standing up from the table, she was undeterred by the fact that she still didn’t clear any of the still-seated Femizonian’s shoulders. “But on that note, I assure you, what’s underneath is  _ spectacular _ . Let me tell you, I have zero complaints. It’s not just for  _ his  _ safety that he remains covered, it’s for  _ yours _ . You couldn't handle Earth's Mightiest, believe me. Bucky, help me out here…” she broke off to address her partner and stopped short at his reaction. “Are you... _ laughing _ ?” she said in mounting disbelief.

Darcy hadn’t thought much of Bucky’s silence thus far. She had figured he was just as dumbstruck as she felt. His face was bowed and expression obscured by a curtain of hair, but sure enough, his shoulders shook as that asshole laughed while she floundered away at these other assholes!

“No, please continue,” he somehow got out between snickers. “I want to hear more about my virility.”

“Oh my God, be more offended, please!” Somebody needed to share in her outrage, immediately.

His only response was more muffled laughter. He could defend his own damn honor from now on.

\-----

Darcy would have never pegged  _ her _ as the grumpy one of the two, but lately,  _ she'd _ been the one stomping back to their jet in a mood while Bucky quipped his way onboard.

Undaunted, he tried to heckle her out of her funk. “Make up your mind, doll. You want them to come after me or you want them to leave me alone?”

She dumped her pack on the jumpseat with unnecessary force. “I take back my wish for you to find a sense of humor about these things.”

“Does this mean you won’t be having your way with me?” His tone was too lighthearted for someone unstrapping that many weapons from his person.

As if she could forget the Chieftain’s parting shouts of blessing. “Yes,” she retorted a little too adamantly.

“Damnit.” His tone was a little too bland for her liking.  _ Did she want him to sound disappointed? _

She needed to change the subject or her head was going to explode. “While I'm thrilled you're so tickled by my frustration, we need to discuss revisiting this planet sometime in the near future. The Chieftain clearly didn't listen to a word I said.”

Bucky nodded his agreement, never too distracted from the mission at hand. “The rebels are going to need some time though. It’s a little too close to the last uprising,” he suggested.

She was glad they were on the same page on what mattered. “Their numbers took a hit. We’ll give them time to regroup and check back in.” She frowned at how frazzled she had been by arguing with the tribe women. “I suppose we should have made some contacts while planetside.”

He waved his comm in the air casually. “Already done.” When she smiled at him approvingly, he feigned offense. “Not just a pretty face.”

“I know,” she agreed placidly, adopting her most serious expression. “It's your  _ body  _ we were admiring today.”

Bucky scoffed and took a menacing step toward her. Still, he played along. “I think the word we mentioned was  _ virility _ .”

“No, no. The word we  _ questioned _ was virility.”

She felt rather than heard the growl rumble from his chest when he reached his destination. “And the verdict?” He wasn’t actually making a move to touch her, but her space was officially invaded.

She groaned in mock forfeit, letting her head fall back so she could escape staring right back into his eyes. “Do you  _ really  _ need to fish for compliments?” Darcy kept her tone as ornery as possible so he couldn't win outright. Her voice always came out rather breathless when he was in one of these moods, much to her chagrin.

He hummed thoughtfully and snaked a hand around her waist.

“You’re clearly the catch of all the realms.” That hand secured her slowly, surely against his body. Refusing to notice his heat or that grip so low on her waist, she cranked the sarcasm in her voice up to eleven. “Thor has  _ nothing  _ on you, dude.”

His other hand was busy at work, snatching up one of her wrists and coiling her arm around his neck.

But Darcy didn’t care one bit. “I swear, the next planet we land on better be filled with natives extolling  _ my _ virtues!” When his lips brushed lightly against the inside of her wrist, she barely shivered. 

Murmuring assent, he traced blunt-tipped fingers lightly--but not light enough to tickle--down the curve of her arm, unmindful of her tirade, past her shoulder to travel up her neck. 

Stubborn to the end, she repressed any flickers of arousal he incited in her and deadpanned,  _ “What  _ are you doing?”

“I’m taking any question of my virility out of your mind.”

“Please stop saying  _ virility _ .”

“Just trying to help with your frustration.” He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

She shook it free.  _ “You  _ are the source of my frustration.”

“I like you, too,” he said in that same aggravatingly mild tone meant for wild dogs and screaming toddlers.

“My translator is definitely broken. Or I'm having a stroke.” 

He grinned at her obstinacy--only Bucky would be turned on by their bickering--and captured her lips with his own. 

She knew what he was doing, and she appreciated the hell out of it. Neither she nor Bucky had what one would call a sunny disposition. Between her cynicism and his pessimism, the mood in the quinjet could stay really bleak until one of them snapped out of it. At the beginning of their assignment together, she had usually been the one who had to play glass half full and it had been exhausting to muster up that level of chipperness on a regular basis. Now, almost a year later, they took turns pulling the other out of a snit after a mission went awry. 

What they'd been doing this past year was one extended flirtation. Sure, there had been plenty of missions in between all that relational build-up, and some of them could even be labeled mild to moderately successful. But she was fairly certain now that Bucky genuinely loved her. And when he pulled back just far enough to make eye contact, she spied his lip curling at the corner, and thought that she just might love him too. It wasn't ready to come out yet, but she thought it really hard. And when he moved in for another kiss, she thought he just might have heard her.

 

Of course, Darcy Lewis couldn't let the warm feelings set up permanent shop in her chest cavity. So she pulled back from his kiss to assure him in her most sincere sounding voice. “You know this doesn’t mean I don’t totally respect you as a human being.” She was uncertain if his incredulous look was because of what she said or because she stopped kissing him back. She continued her speech regardless. “I value you beyond your physical appearance and ability to pass on desirable characteristics to offspring.”

“You say the most romantic things.” There was that dry humor she was so fond of.

“Dude, these last few planets have killed any remaining romance in me.”

“Luckily for us, I remain unaffected.” He tried to swoop back in.

“How is that?” She laughed and dodged his mouth. “How can you possibly witness all this craziness and still feel any kind thoughts toward my gender? Though, to be fair, your admirers weren’t limited to my gender.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I’m not scared of a little crazy.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Do you remember how we met?” He got all squint-eyed when he was trying to make a point he thought was obvious.

“That’s not fair!” She tried to break free from his hold. The mood was officially broken. “I didn’t dissolve all my clothing to purposely flash you!”

He didn’t reply to that or release her from his grasp, but gave her a searching look.

She continued, unmindful of whatever was going through his brain. “And you didn’t react at all to my nudity. No genuflection, no horrified grasping of pearls. Not even a little blush. I  _ am _ a little insulted at that.”

His head canted to one side as he acceded to her point. “That  _ was _ quite a day.”  _ Those eyes of his were getting suspiciously unfocused _ . Sobering, he intoned, “But that’s not what I'm talking about. We met  _ before  _ the lab accident.” Bucky kept giving her that wondering look, trying to figure out if she honestly didn’t remember their so-called first meeting.

“What.”  _ He had to be mistaken _ .

He laughed and shook his head a little, his expression fond in recollection. “You know, they warned me to expect some unbelievable stuff when it came to you, but you were something else.”

“What? Who? What?” 

“I swear, I smelled like fish for weeks.”  _ Now he was just messing with her. _

“Are you going to remind me of this meeting or do I have to wait for the flashback episode?”

Bucky laughed at her, drawing her protesting body back close against his and simply resumed relieving her of any remaining frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! 
> 
> There will be a final chapter in this "season,"--another Rewind--which will hopefully shed some light on questions raised in this chapter. 
> 
> Hope to see you there!


End file.
